


All the Blue

by whatcanon



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Art, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Theatre, Trauma, less of a slow burn more of a steady burn?, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2020-07-08 01:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcanon/pseuds/whatcanon
Summary: Ilana, a burnt-out, twenty-something thespian, takes over her grandfather's farm in order to make clean escape from her past. She soon realizes that the simple life isn't so simple after all.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.  
> — Maggie Nelson, from Bluets

Ilana sat cross-legged on the worn cot, wondering whether it would be better to throw her cellphone into the pond out back or smash it with her new axe. It was small and warm in her hand, the cracks and the fading Sanrio stickers innocent enough. Still, she knew that hearing it buzz or ring would be enough to fill her with panic for days. She hadn't even turned it on since she walked out of her job at JojaCorp and left Zuzu City, the place where she had gone to college and spent the first half of her twenties. It was not that she expected to be chewed out by her former boss, what with the high number of broke twenty-somethings looking for work. Being replaceable was a comforting thought. 

Pond it is, Ilana decided. She felt for past Ilana, who had cracked her screen and clumsily repaired it with stickers. She was trying not to be angry with her.   
Ilana dug into the pocket of her dungarees for her lighter as she stepped out of the cabin and onto the rickety deck. It was the middle of the night. Hours before, she had exchanged pleasantries with the mayor and the town carpenter, whose names she was already forgetting, and accepted their well-meaning gifts. Once they were gone, she shut herself in the cabin and sat down on the cot, where she proceeded to dissociate for the rest of the evening. It was all too much—the day’s journey by train, the hike down the mountains to Stardew Valley, and the forest that was threatening to overtake her fragile new existence. The shadows of the trees leaped and danced in the light of the small flame from her lighter. 

She was afraid, but she wasn’t afraid. Numb to the sticks and rocks underfoot, she marched straight to where she was pretty sure the larger of the ponds was, keeping her eyes on the ground to make sure she didn’t fall in. Before long, the trees parted to reveal her reflection, rumpled and wavering against the black surface of the pond. Ilana watched herself pull her arm back and toss her phone into the pond where it disappeared with a splash-less plunk. The single flame of her lighter and the dark shapes of the trees made it feel like a proper ritual. In the name of Y-ba, she was going to be safe. She was going to be okay. 

Back at the cabin, she took stock of her few belongings. Two pairs of faded dungarees, including the one she was wearing. Several oversized “paint shirts,” leftovers from her time working as a set painter in college. A pack of black underwear. A pack of white underwear. Repeat with socks. Soap, hairspray, a comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant, all still new in the packaging. Two bras in absolutely terrible prints: one in a neon green and orange zebra pattern, the other with pink and black skulls and crossbones. They were the only ones in her size she could find in the JojaMart clearance bin. Most important were her Mom’s old, heavy black work boots. Ilana smiled grimly. With any luck, she’d never look cute again. 

Besides her clothes and toiletries, she had a set of cheap sheets that she put on the cot, some canned food, and a tin of her Mom’s homemade granola bars. She munched on one of these as she stripped and put one of the old t-shirts and a clean pair of underwear. 

For some reason, there was a small TV in the corner of the cabin’s single room. It was so old it only had dials with which to turn the channels. Ilana pushed the button that she thought turned it on. A man in a garish suit was saying that it would rain tomorrow. Good. An excuse to put off clearing the property and go buy more supplies instead. The mayor had something about the importance of making herself known to everyone in town. Ilana balked at anything that smacked of mandatory participation, but having dumped nearly everyone from her old life, she needed friends. Or maybe she didn’t. She wanted to know who she was alone, after all. She didn’t want to be a person for other people anymore. Pondering these thoughts, Ilana fell asleep, a half-eaten granola bar in her hand.


	2. The Village People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilana learns to forage and meets some important people.

The sunlight woke Ilana at dawn, streaming through the cabin’s bare little windows. She was exhausted from her late night (it was going to be hard to abandon her nocturnal habits), but steeled herself against falling back asleep. She got dressed, grabbed her toiletries, and went down to the pond. As far as she could tell, there was no running water on Grandpa’s farm. “It’s like camping,” she told herself. Was the pond even clean enough to bathe in?  
  
“It’s going to have to be,” she said aloud. “Hey, wait—where’s the rain?” It was partly cloudy at best. “Might still be worth leaving out a bucket or something.”  
  
She splashed pond water on her face and brushed her teeth with it, making sure not to swallow any. It smelled a bit murky. Then came the task of decided what to do with her hair. It was too long and curly to wear loose on the farm, and she was not quite ready for small creatures to start nesting in it. Perhaps she could start covering it. She laughed inwardly at the idea of calling her mother and telling her that she had decided to start wearing a tichel. That would frighten her more than Ilana’s sudden departure from the city.  
  
And her not answering her phone. Guiltily, Ilana vowed to send her a letter as soon as possible.  
  
She braided her hair into a long, tight plait that she threw over one shoulder. She thought about winding it around her head in a crown but dismissed the style as too precious for her harsh new life. Then she felt angry at herself for even thinking about it. “You’re the same self-conscious bitch you were before,” she muttered.  
  
Ilana stomped off in the direction of town. It was spring, and the ground was still a bit soft. The dandelions were in bloom and a few were already going to seed. Ilana grabbed a couple and stuffed them in her pockets, unsure of why she was doing it. She did the same with what seemed to be wild daffodils. When the dirt road finally became old-fashioned cobblestones, Ilana knew she had arrived. She checked her watch. It wasn’t even 7 am yet. There was no one on the street and everything seemed to be closed. She decided to take the opportunity to explore.  
  
Everything was more or less how she remembered from her visits as a very young child. There was Pierre’s General Store, with its community calendar and notice board out front. She had loved knowing when everyone’s birthday was, even those of villagers she had never met. The clinic was still there, but it definitely had received a makeover. She guessed that the old town doctor had probably been replaced. The old fountain was gone, a circular pattern of bricks in its place. Everything had looked larger and more important when she was little. It was a sad excuse for town center, if could even really be called a town.  
  
Lost in her reverie, Ilana almost bumped into a man who seemed to have come from nowhere. The first thing she noticed was his stained JojaCorp hoodie. Was there no escape, even out here? He was definitely older than she was, with messy dark hair and five o’clock shadow. She watched him pass, and then remembered she was supposed to be introducing herself to people.  
  
“Hey!” she said, louder than she had intended. “I’m Ilana. I just moved here. I used to work at”-  
  
He stopped, turned, and scowled. “I don’t know you.”  
  
“Well, duh, that’s why…” Ilana trailed off. He was already gone.  
  
“All right, all right, take two, no need to get upset,” she said to herself. She could feel the blood rushing to her a face, a sign that she was about to tear up. “Deep breath. Walk it off.” She spun on her heel and walked past the fountain, in the direction of the sea.  
Men being mean wasn’t exactly new to Ilana, but usually they were nice first. In a way, this was better. It was more honest. Still, someone rejecting her in such a blatant way hadn’t happened since high school, and it stung.  
  
As soon as she saw the waves bordered by the sandy golden beach, she forgot all about the rude stranger. She hastily unlaced her boots and kicked them off, stuffing her socks inside them, and shoved both feet deep in the sand. The sea air was salty, sweet, and cold as it filled her lungs—sort of like the best salted caramel ice cream ever, she thought. Happy tears sprang to her eyes, and she collapsed to her knees in the warm sand. It was worth it, it was all worth it. She laughed into the breeze. She hadn’t been to sea since Grandpa had passed. However, unlike the town, it was just as vast and powerful as it was when she was a five-year-old.  
  
For the first time since Ilana had left the city, she let herself sob. And then start laughing again. Oh, Y-ba, I am _deranged _, she thought. She reached up to rub her eyes, realizing too late that her hands were covered in sand. Blinded both by grit and tears, she doubled up with laughter.__  
  
“It’s delicious isn’t it?” said a gentle voice to her left.  
  
Ilana scrambled to her feet. She still couldn’t see. “Where?” she cried. She stumbled forward, and suddenly strong arms were catching her and steadying her. A handkerchief was thrust into her hand.  
  
“The sea,” said the voice, slightly flustered. “Don’t feel bad – I mean – you couldn’t help it, that is… It’s a great honor to meet another lover of the sea.”  
  
Ilana wiped her eyes. The person standing in front of her was a man with a long mane of auburn hair. He was nearly a head taller than she was. And he was wearing what appeared to be a waistcoat and cravat under his coat. She giggled. “I’m sorry! I’m just…overcome. This is a lot.”  
  
“I can imagine,” he replied. “I felt the same way when I first came here. My name is Elliott, and I live in that cabin further down the beach. You must be the new farmer”-  
  
“Ilana,” she said. “And it would be more accurate to say I’m the new town crazy.”  
  
“Never,” he said. “You’re a woman with great sensitivity to the powers of nature, bearing up under the stresses of a long journey.”  
  
“I appreciate that…Elliott,” Ilana said. “I’m sorry I had a full-on breakdown right in your backyard.”  
  
He shook his head. “Come with me, Ilana” he said and held out his hand. Surprised, she took it, and it was warm and strong. Elliott led her to the water’s edge, and she followed, her thoughts in a thousand places. He knelt down beside her. “If I may,” he said, gesturing to her ankles.  
  
“By all means.”  
  
She watched him roll up her dungarees as carefully as if they had been the most delicate silk. Then he rolled up his own pant legs and waded into the surf.  
  
Struck by the sweetness of the gesture, Ilana stood as if frozen until he held out his hand again. The water was sharp and cold, and she gasped when she entered it, though standing in it was not uncomfortable. The blue of the sea melded with the bluer blue of the sky, enclosing her in a vast blue dome. She felt like an insect trapped under a cup and carefully carried outside. Her mind began to clear. Here I am, here I am, here I am, she thought. This is the gift Grandpa gave me.  
  
Ilana forgot she was still holding Elliott’s hand until she heard a polite cough. “Thank you,” she said as she released it. “I feel a lot better now.”  
  
“My pleasure,” he said. His hazel eyes were searching her face. “Will you be all right? As lovely as this has been, I’m afraid I must get back to my writing.”  
  
“I think so. Please, don’t let me keep you.” She followed him back ashore.  
  
“I hope to see you again, Ilana,” he said.  
  
“I would like that, Elliott.”  
  
He bowed and set off in the direction of his cabin.  
  
It was not until Ilana was back in Pelican Town that the force of what had just happened hit her. What was that? What the fuck was that? And what was he wearing?  
  
Emily Dickson wrote “After great pain, a formal feeling comes,” and as Ilana thought of the different person she became when Elliott spoke to her, it rang true. She felt serious, purposeful as she gathered up wildflowers and stuffed them in her dungarees. It was the feeling of having had a good cry or of waking up after a long, dreamless sleep. By all means. It would be my pleasure. Please. Her boots tapped on the cobblestones, went shh-shh in the grass. Bend down, grab the stem, twist it off. Her hands became green and tacky with sap. Some of the tougher stems cut into her skin as she pulled them up. The sun had risen higher in the sky, warming the back of her neck. The town was awake in earnest, filled with the faint sounds of people talking behind walls and clattering dishes. Don’t look at me. Don’t touch me. Please.  
  
Ilana stood up slowly. It was time. She needed make herself known before her anxiety ramped up again. A white haired old lady in a faded floral sundress was approaching her, pushing an old man in a wheelchair, presumably her husband. Ilana forced a smile, hoping it reached her eyes. “Hello. My name is Ilana. I’m taking over my Grandpa’s old house.”  
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet Davey’s granddaughter. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time, honey.” The old lady’s eyes were scarcely visible among her wrinkles but bright as flakes of gold leaf. “I’m Evelyn Mullner, and this is my husband, George. You can call me Granny if you like—all the young folks in town do.”  
  
“Just George is fine, thanks,” said George. He shook her hand. “More people in town, the last thing we need.”  
  
“Now George, you know we won’t be around forever, and you don’t want our special home to die out.”  
  
He grumbled something she couldn’t hear. Ilana sensed that this was a typical conversation for them. “Um…I didn’t bring much from the city, but I thought it would be nice to give everyone something. As a thank-you for having me.” She took out a daffodil and handed it to Evelyn.  
  
“Oh this is lovely, honey. One of the sure-fire signs that spring has come to the Valley.”  
  
She was unprepared for the reaction she received when she handed George what looked like a wild onion of some kind. His face flushed purple and then red. He reached up and gripped Evelyn’s arm. “Evvy, look. It’s been a while, huh.”  
  
“Oh, George, your favorite!” Evelyn said. “I used to make a special soup with the wild leeks, but we’ve grown a bit too old and rickety to collect them ourselves.”  
  
Ilana blushed, making a mental of the fact that the plant was edible. “I’ll have to make sure to bring you more, then.”  
  
After the old folks moved on, Ilana went into Pierre’s, with the vague notion that she ought to be buying supplies. As she approached the counter, the man behind it snapped to attention. “Hello, it’s the new farmer!” he said. “I wondered when you would be stopping by.”  
  
Everyone else in the store turn to look at her. Ilana gave an awkward wave. No one returned it.  
  
“I see you’ve already been doing a little freelance agriculture,” Pierre said, peering over the counter at her pockets. “That’s what I like to call foraging. Anything you’d like to offload?”  
  
“What, like for money?”  
  
“Yes, not everyone can find that stuff. Foraging is a skill like anything else.”  
  
Ilana handed him some of her finds, and he gave her what she suspected was an overgenerous amount of gold. “Oh, that reminds me, I set something aside for you.” He reached under the counter and handed her a packet of parsnip seeds. “These should be enough for a small plot. They’re quick and easy to grow. Filling, too.”  
  
Ilana took the seeds from him. “Thank you so much,” she said. “Everything’s just been happening so fast, and I really have no idea what to do next, and I’m not even sure I want to be a farmer, I just”-  
  
Pierre blinked. “Oh, I thought Robin and Mayor Lewis would have told you what to do. First, you’ll have to clear some of those trees and rocks. Then farm.”  
  
Ilana stared blankly.  
  
“Just do the work,” Pierre said, “and the answers will come to you as you’re breaking up stones or tilling the soil.”  
  
She nodded. Inwardly, she resented the implication that what she was feeling were fake, big city emotions to which rural folk were inoculated by virtue of their connection to the earth or whatever. But, in a way, he was right. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do. “Thanks, Pierre, I’ll keep that in mind.”  
  
“I hope to see you in here again soon. I know JojaMart has lower prices, but they can’t match my quality.”  
  
Ilana laughed. “Don’t worry, you won’t catch me setting foot in one of those ever again.”  
  
As she turned to go, a purple-haired teenage girl stepped alongside her. She was strikingly pale, with long eyelashes, and wearing a black velvet choker. “Hi, I’m Abigail,” she said, “and that nerd behind the counter is my dad.” Under her breath, she added, “I just wanted to apologize for how everyone stares around here. If you look a little different or say hi to someone in the wrong way, there can be hell to pay.” She rolled her eyes.  
  
Ilana smiled. “Thanks, Abigail. I’m Ilana, by the way.”  
  
“Everyone’s been pretending they don’t already know your name so you don’t feel like you’ve joined a cult.”  
  
At that, Ilana smothered a laugh. “You’re not wrong – it does feel a little like that. But it’s not my first cult.”  
  
Abigail glanced around. “Just – don’t forget that this isn’t the whole world, okay? I know that sounds weird coming from someone who spent her whole life here, but when you ask what’s out there…” Ilana could see the weight of an old sadness settle upon her. “Maybe it’s better not to know.”  
  
“I’m sorry, that sounds rough. But if it helps, I’m from Zuzu City, not, like, outer space. And you can ask me whatever you want about it.”  
  
“I would love that,” Abigail said. Ilana thought she sounded a bit disappointed.  
  
“Just don’t ask about my dark past,” Ilana said with a wink.  
  
Abigail grinned. “Of course not! See you around.”  
  
As Ilana left the store, she reflected on the fact that she had never known a goth who wasn’t a ray of sunshine. Moonshine? Maybe it’s because they’ve made peace with the darker parts of themselves, she thought to herself. Or maybe it’s because they are fundamentally positive that death, destruction, etc., feel glamorous and exotic to them. Her stomach growled, and she remembered that she hadn’t eaten anything but the morning’s granola bar. I don’t think a meal at the saloon would be too excessive, she thought. It’s not like I can eat how I used to and be a farmer. She often wondered how many rooms the endless protein bars and vitamin waters that she had eaten while working in the city would fill.  
  
The usual hokey banjo music was playing when she entered the Stardrop, or so it felt to Ilana as though it had just picked up from where it left off the last time she had been there, which was never. She shuddered. There was something slightly ominous and strange about, well, everything she had experienced since she arrived in the Valley. From the way people spoke to her, to how intently nature seemed to be listening, to the kindness Elliott had shown her, a complete stranger. The more she thought about that interaction, the odder she felt. If it had been any other person in the whole universe, probably, it would have felt contrived, inappropriate, even creepy. But something about him made it seem the most natural thing in the world. She ordered a plate of spaghetti and a beer, which she nursed at the bar until she felt a tap on her shoulder.  
  
“Mind if I join you?” The speaker was a tall and slender woman, with strawberry blond hair that she wore in a braid similar to Ilana’s but with loose tendrils pulled out to frame her face, softening the effect. The beginnings of laugh lines suggested that she was some years older than Ilana, likely in her early thirties. She was wearing overalls over a crop top, and how she wore them made it seem like the most flattering outfit possible.  
  
“Not at all!” Ilana said over a mouthful of spaghetti. “Excuse me, I didn’t think anyone…” She stopped herself from saying that she wasn’t expecting to meet anyone attractive at the saloon. “I’m Ilana.”  
  
“I’m Leah,” the woman answered, taking the seat beside her. “It’s nice to meet you, I’ve already heard so much.” Her voice was low and musical.  
  
“Shit, like what?” Ilana was slightly buzzed, and decided she was done pretending what was happening to her was normal.  
  
Leah chuckled. “Only that you’re prettier than everyone expected, based on what they knew of your Grandpa. And that you seem kind, if a bit off.”  
  
“I did get his short neck,” Ilana said, “but everyone I’ve met here has seemed a bit off.”  
  
“You’re not imagining it,” Leah said. “I barely spoke to anyone when I first moved to the Valley. I sculpted and painted like mad and ignored calls. They were strange, and I could tell they thought I was strange. The woman artist in the woods.”  
  
“Everyone thinks I’m a farmer. I just needed to be somewhere else for a while. I’m not even sure how long I’ll stay.”  
  
“Be a farmer. Be someone else for a while,” Leah said, resting her cheek on her hand and regarding Ilana with a gaze that was not unkind.  
  
“I just want to feel everything, but I also want to be safe, if you know what I mean.”  
  
Leah nodded slowly. “What were you doing before you came here?”  
  
“Doing data entry for JojaCorp. Moonlighting as an actress and set designer. Being part of a ‘scene.’”  
  
“It’s the scene that’s the hardest part,” Leah said.  
  
“Tell me about it.” Ilana sipped her beer.  
  
“We probably knew some of the same people.”  
  
Ilana stared at her in shock and horror. “Nope.”  
  
“I understand,” said Leah. “I won’t talk about it if you won’t.”  
  
“I appreciate it,” Ilana said. “I threw my phone in the pond last night.”  
  
Leah laughed. “Good on you. I’m constantly unplugging my landline. It drives my girlfriend crazy. But it’s a thing I just have to do.”  
  
“Did you meet your girlfriend here? Or is she someone from before?”  
  
“She’s from here, don’t worry. Her name is Haley, and she keeps house with her sister, Emily. I don’t remember the address actually, it’s just ‘the house with the frowny sun.’”  
  
“I think I saw that today,” Ilana laughed.  
  
“Do you think you’ll be doing any theater art stuff in the Valley?”  
  
“Oh, Y-ba, I don’t know… I think I would do it again eventually. It’s not something I can just stop doing.”  
  
“Haley and I like to host a ‘paint night,’ at her place on Sunday nights. I guess it’s more of a general art night. It’s usually, just me, her, and Emily, but sometimes other people stop in. We bring projects that we’re working on and share a bottle of wine—and sometimes some goat cheese.” Leah said the last part as though it were a particularly juicy secret.  
  
“Oh, wow, that sounds nice,” Ilana said, trying not to sound too interested in case Leah wasn’t actually inviting her.  
  
“Just to be clear, I’m inviting you as a fellow artist—not as a courtesy or as a townie hanger-on. In some ways, the Valley is a great place to have an artistic practice, but the isolation can really get to you.”  
  
“I’ll be there,” Ilana said. “Thank you.” Inside her a voice was screaming _beware of instant friends beware of instant friends _. She had just left a toxic art scene. Why would this be any different? Social capital probably didn’t change hands as much around here, probably. That would be one difference. Fewer people, too. Not as many guys?__  
  
“You okay?”  
  
Ilana took a gulp of beer. “Leah, do people have ‘clout’ around here?”  
  
Leah laughed. “I don’t think it works like that around here, fortunately. If I had to say who holds the most clout in Pelican Town, it’s probably Pierre. Or Marnie? And that’s because most of the food we eat comes from them. If you’re held in high esteem, it’s probably because you work the land.”  
  
“That’s good to hear.”  
  
Leah patted her hand. “But, Ilana, if any mean art bros give you trouble, just tell me where they are, and I’ll put them in the ground. And we’ll feast on the mushrooms and berries that grow over their bodies.” She swung herself down from her stool. “Good night!”  
  
“Good night, Leah.” Ilana tucked into her spaghetti.  
  
************************  
  
“Do people have clout around here…what the hell, girl,” Ilana said to herself as she walked home, holding her lighter out like a torch. “You’re fucking poisoned.” She dumped the rest of her foraging finds into the shipping bin and climbed up her front steps. It was a mild night, and she decided to sleep on the deck. Stumbling around with the lighter, she managed to brush her teeth without water and find a clean shirt to sleep in. Curled up on the creaking deck with her blanket and pillow, she stared into the darkness. It was as black as if her eyes were closed, despite the vast maze of stars up above. As she drifted off, the black behind her eyes became the blue of the sea.


	3. Welcome to the Lust Swamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Performance art goes awry. And fishing!

Ignoring her screaming muscles, Ilana swung her axe and struck a small pine tree a final blow, bringing it down with a crunch. She had gotten in the habit of jumping backward, as she didn’t know anything about cutting down trees and could not control which direction they fell. She suspected that what she was doing might actually be extremely dangerous. However, no one had offered to help.

It was only her second tree of the day, and already she was exhausted. It was raining, and the water mingled with sweat and trickled down her exposed skin in rivulets. Her dungarees were soaked through. At least the air smelled of fresh pine, mingled with the scent of the rain. Ilana was surprised that she did not mind being wet. The water felt good on her sore limbs and it was the closest thing she had to a shower. One more tree, she thought, and maybe I’ll jump in the pond for a bit. Or just strip and stand in the rain.

However, the next tree, a young oak, proved to be even tougher, and her axe nearly slipped out of her hands when it bounced against its trunk. When it finally tipped over, Ilana collapsed to the ground. That’s enough for a while, she thought. I’ll swim and then I’ll clear some brush. She shivered and hugged herself tightly. Ilana had been trying not to think about the fact that she was alone, but it was hard not to feel sorry for herself. She was attempting a huge task with no help or guidance, and now she was sitting in the mud.

“Think of it as an artistic experience,” she told herself, “an extended piece of performance art in which you explore the unplumbed depths of the human soul.” She lay flat on her back with a splat. “The earth as both mother and lover, as prison and paradise.” She scooped up a handful of mud and smeared it down one cheek. “I’m fucking bored!”

Ilana hopped to her feet and unbuttoned her dungarees. She stepped out of them and left them in the mud, along with her t-shirt and underwear. It was easier to get to the pond now. That was something. She ran to the water’s edge and jumped in, submerging briefly and popping up, sputtering. It was deep enough that her feet just barely touched the bottom.

A long piece of pond weed had draped itself over her face. As Ilana brushed it away in disgust, she had an idea. She tucked one end behind one ear, wrapped it across her forehead and tucked it behind her other ear, creating a slimy green tiara.

“I am Potentia, Queen of the Lust Swamp!” Ilana said in a loud, theatrical voice. “Gaze upon my mighty tits, o mortals, and despair!” She extended her arm, pointing a finger skyward.

Her words echoed satisfyingly through the trees. But then a voice responded. “Ilana?”

She froze. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Mayor Lewis, I have a letter for you from Willy the Fisherman.”

“Well, put in the mailbox!” Ilana snapped.

“I’m afraid it’s rusted shut. Where are you?”

“Just put it on the porch!”

“It’ll get all wet. Why can’t I just”-

“I’m NAKED.”

“Oh-oh-oh goodness me. I’ll just put it on the porch then.” She heard squelching footsteps headed in the opposite direction.

After waiting what felt like a long enough time, Ilana hauled herself out of the pond with a tree branch. She was covered in mud and pond weed. Nearly sobbing with rage and frustration, she tramped to the porch, grabbed the sodden letter, and banged the door as she went inside.

All the letter said was to meet Willy at his store down by the docks so he could give her something. She crumpled it up and tossed it aside. It could have waited. Why was Mayor Lewis hand delivering her mail anyway? She felt disgusting.

“Imagine…a play that’s just me sobbing on the ground in different locations,” she thought. “And as the scenery shifts, I lose articles of clothing, until I’m fucking naked, and then a gross old man walks in and just stares at me…it’s called implicating the audience, and it’s subversive!”

Normally, Ilana coped by posting her thoughts online, but that was impossible now. She didn’t even have a notebook and pen. She sighed and began to pick bits of algae off of her body.

After putting on clean clothes, she set off for the docks. The docks were at the beach, after all. Maybe the day was still salvageable.

Willy turned out to be kindly, bearded sort, smelling of salt water and fish. He gave her his old bamboo rod and a quick fishing lesson. Casting her line and reeling in fish was tricky, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as clearing trees. She threw back the first fish she caught, a tiny sardine, but kept the next one, a good-sized herring. Maybe her financial situation wouldn’t be so dire after all.

“Yer a good one for sitting so long in the rain,” he said, after they had been on the dock for about an hour. “Rainy days are good fishin’ days, but some people just can’t do it. Take Elliott in that cabin yonder.”

Ilana’s heart skipped a beat. “So he’s real?”

Willy chuckled. “Aye, he’s real alright, and there isn’t a harder-working man in the Valley, but you wouldn’t think it the way he carries on about his hair getting wet.”

“I met him yesterday. He was…very kind to me.”

“’e’s a good ‘un. Not a bad crab trapper either.”

The only sound was that of the waves sloshing against the dock as Ilana considered how many more questions about Elliott she could get away with asking. She decided she didn’t care if Willy thought she liked him.

“What does he work on?”

“That interminable novel o’ his. I cannae tell you what it’s about, but it’s brilliant, to be sure. Spends almost all day in that cabin, trying to get it just right. Don’t go botherin’ him now. He’s none too friendly if ye barge in while he’s writin’. Believe me.” Willy chuckled again.

Ilana cast a backward glance in the direction of Elliott’s cabin. Was he in there now? Deep in thought, or typing furiously? Maybe tugging at a lock of his hair, or pushing himself away from the desk to get up and pace back and forth, chasing a plot point that eluded him. Did he always wear so many clothes? Something tugged hard at her fishing line, snapping her back to the present.

“That’s a biggun’ that is,” Willy said. “Don’t let him go now!”

Ilana reeled as fast as she could, the pole bending with the combined efforts of her and the fish. At last, it broke the surface.

“An eel! And a nice ‘un, too.”

Ilana couldn’t stop smiling as she unhooked the flopping yellow eel and dropped it into her bucket. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Willy. Thank you so much.”

Willy beamed. “Anytime. And I mean that. I’m happy to help anyone if it keeps the art o’ fishin’ alive.”

Leaving Willy to close up shop, Ilana carried her fish to the Stardrop where she sold them to Gus. She spotted Leah at a table in the corner and went over to say hi. Leah chattered for a bit about some spring onions she had found in the forest.

Then, with a crocodile smile, she asked, “And how are things in the Lust Swamp?”


	4. Welcome to the Lust Swamp 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain someone drops by during Leah's art party...

The night of Leah’s party had finally come, and Ilana wished she had brought even just one nice piece of clothing to the farm. Before it had gotten dark, she washed and combed her long curly hair, which was the color of dark honey. She had decided to wear it in coronet braids, the style that she had previously dismissed as trying too hard, intertwined with purple sweet pea blossoms gathered from the forest. Checking her reflection in her new well, she decided that she looked like she was going for something, even if she wasn’t achieving whatever it was.

Robin had helped her build the well the day before, after leaving a note about the necessity of a source of clean water. Ilana suspected that news of her pond bathing shenanigans had spread to that side of the mountain, though Robin had said nothing to that regard. “I’m just so excited to help build something new on this neglected land,” she had said. “There are so few opportunities for me to do anything other than repairs and furniture in this town.” Ilana suspected the hefty price she charged was also part of the draw.

Still, it was a great relief to have clean water in the farm. In addition to being able to wash herself and her clothes, she could now water the small vegetable patch she had started. Some of the green shoots were already showing themselves, and it would not be long before she could sell parsnips, beans, and cauliflower. “Not yet a farmer but passably a gardener,” she thought.

It was growing dark. Leah had asked her to come at eight o’clock. After unloading the day’s foraging finds into the shipping bin, she set off for Emily and Haley’s house. In Pelican Town, there were a few people in the streets, either en route to the saloon or heading home. Ilana wondered what sort of things took place behind closed doors. She imagined Abigail and her friends passing a joint in Robin’s basement. The military wife, Jodi, shaking her head over the month’s bills. And of course, Elliott in his cabin, stuck on a particular sentence, typewriter correction fluid all over his fingers. Ilana could not picture him using a laptop.

All week long, she had looked over her shoulder and tiptoed around corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. He was as elusive as a Stardrop and just as intoxicating. The day she thought she had glimpsed his hair swishing out of Pierre’s, her heart had nearly stopped. “This is dangerous,” she remembered thinking. She was not sure if she was attracted to him or terrified of the power he seemed to wield.

But tonight was a girls’ night. Emily was the one to open the door. “Hi, hi, hi!” she said. Her blue hair was pulled up in a topknot and her grin was outlined in bright orange lipstick. It seemed she was already a little tipsy. “Come on, I’m so glad you could make it. I love your hair!”

“Thanks! Yours, too,” Ilana responded, stepping inside the front door. She was in a small, cozy living room lit warmly by several antique lamps. Magazines and photographs were strewn about as well as scraps of fabric and yarn. Leah and Haley were side by side on the couch looking at something on Haley’s laptop. They both waved. Haley closed her computer and got up to greet Ilana.

“Hi, I’m Haley, the prettiest girl in town,” she said. Ilana was not sure if she was supposed to laugh or not. “I hope you can make yourself comfortable, even though it’s not as swampy as your highness is used to.”

Ilana reddened and covered her face. “Oh, no…”

Leah, from the couch: “Damn it, Hales, you promised you wouldn’t open with that.”

Haley rolled her eyes. “Ugh, my girlfriend is so nice, she’s stifling me, I can’t stand it…” She winked at Ilana. “Have a seat, and I’ll pour you a glass. That is, if Emily hasn’t drunk all of it already.”

Ilana sat down in an armchair across from Leah as Haley bustled off to the kitchen. She smiled wrily. “Leah, forgive me if I’m misremembering, but I’m pretty sure you nailed me with the swamp queen joke the last time I saw you.”

Leah chuckled. “But it sounds meaner when Haley says it, right?”

Haley returned from the kitchen with an open bottle of wine and a fistful of glasses. “ _Somebody_ already drank a third of it.”

Emily was in hot pursuit with the cheese plate. “For Y-ba’s sake, Haley, it’s my one night off! And you know we have more. I get so many discounted bottles from Gus.”

“I just like to match the wine to the occasion, Emily, and this is the only bottle of cherry wine we have left.”

“Day in and day out with these two,” Leah said to Ilana.

“I’m just happy there’s wine,” Ilana said.

Emily flopped down on the floor in front of her. “No, don’t get up. Don’t you think it’s funny that we all have the letter L in our names? And not just an L, a strong L sound. Emi-ly, Ha-ley, Le-ah, I-lana…”

The only other sound was Haley pouring the wine. Ilana was taking a sip, when Haley asked, “So how much did Lewis see exactly?” and had to work very hard not to spit it all over Emily.

“Oh, Y-ba, nothing at all,” she gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Haley smirked. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“Speaking of Lewis, he and Marnie are getting _bold_ ,” Leah said, whittling a small piece of wood. “You would not believe what I saw when I was foraging last night.”

“Lewis and Marnie?” said Ilana.

“Oh, yes, for a long time. It’s supposed to be a secret, but everyone knows.”

“Wait, what were they doing this time?” Emily said from the floor.

“Canoodling in the bushes outside the saloon. Buttons were undone, neckties were loosened.”

“Did they see you?” Ilana asked.

“No, fortunately I saw them first. Or unfortunately, as the case may be.” 

“Wait, why is it supposed to be a secret?” Ilana asked.

“Because they are filthy exhibitionists!” Haley said. “They like it this way!”

“The main reason is that Mayor Lewis is a little b-word,” Emily said. Leah cackled.

“I’ll drink to that,” Haley said.

Ilana sipped her wine. It had a dark sweetness that tasted like cherry, but with none of the medicinal bitterness cherry-flavored things usually had. “This is lovely wine.”

Haley looked pleased. “Thank you, it’s a rare one.”

Emily left her spot on the floor and could be heard puttering around in her room. She returned with a small loom and a bundle of colorful wool. “I’m making a wall hanging for the kitchen,” she said, when she noticed Ilana looking. “It’ll really tie the placemats to the dishtowels.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Absolutely no idea who that could be,” Leah said. She got up and swung the door open.

“I hope I’m not too late?” said the newcomer.

Ilana’s heart leapt to her mouth. It was Elliott. Suddenly she didn’t know where to put her hands. She wrapped them both around her wineglass and pretended to be interested in what Emily was doing.

“Can’t be late when you’re not invited,” Leah said. 

Ilana took a frantic sip of her wine and then another. She began to feel the warmth rise to her head.

“Hey, Elliott! Have you met Ilana?” said Emily.

Elliott hung up his coat, and, oh, no, he was coming towards her. Somehow Ilana stood up, and he shook her hand. “Ilana. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said.

What? Ilana’s hand went limp, and she could only manage a clumsy squeeze. “Elliott?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

His smile was tight-lipped. “The same. I hope you are finding Pelican Town to your liking?”

“Of course,” she said, sinking back into her seat, “everyone is so…and the weather…can’t get enough of that…trees.”

Elliott nodded. Once he turned his back, Ilana downed the rest of her wine. Was he negging her? Had he actually forgotten?

He and Leah were laughing and joking about something. They seemed like old friends. How had Leah never mentioned him? Haley was threatening to kick him out. Emily was playing keep-away with the wine bottle. “Do something!” her brain screamed. She felt around for her phone before remembering she didn’t have it anymore.

Once he had procured a glass of wine, Elliott sat cross legged on the floor. He really was a beautiful man, Ilana thought. He was squared-jawed, long-nosed, and slightly tan; part of the function of his hair seemed to be to prevent him from looking like a gridball coach. The waistcoat and cravat were gone, and a faded linen shirt clung to his rugged physique. His mischievous smile suggested that he knew exactly how good-looking he was.

Ilana was slightly buzzed and felt like maybe things were going to be alright.

“What sorts of artistic endeavors are taking place tonight?” Elliott asked.

“I’m editing some photos I took of the winter ice breaking up,” Haley said. “Leah’s making another thing out of wood. Emily’s experimenting with drunk weaving. Oh, and Ilana’s practicing her one-woman show.”

“That sounds intriguing,” Elliott said. He looked at Ilana. “What is it about.”

Ilana smirked. “Oh, it’s a burlesque called Queen of the Lust Swamp.” She reached over and handed him her empty wine glass.

Haley, Leah, and Emily burst out laughing. Elliott looked bewildered. “I’m sure it will be both enchanting and provocative…is there any more wine for Ilana?”

“It’s a joke, darling,” Leah said. “You didn’t hear the story?” She began to relay the tale for Elliott’s benefit, and when it came time for the monologue, she looked at Ilana expectantly.

“Oh, Y-ba,” Ilana muttered. She stood up and struck a regal pose. Then she delivered the lines, louder and with more verve than she had on the farm.

Everyone laughed and applauded loudly. Ilana bowed. “Bravo,” Elliott said, “your lovely hair really makes it.” He returned her wine glass, now full.

“Thank you, thank you,” Ilana said. She felt dizzy.

**************************************

Ilana and Elliott left the party together after Emily fell asleep on the carpet. He had agreed to walk her home “just in case Mayor Lewis decided to drop in again.” Ilana’s buzz had worn off, and she found herself feeling more anxious as she and Elliott walked into the woods south of the farm. But she was also a little bit angry.

“Elliott,” she began, “why did you pretend we hadn’t met?”

He stopped in his tracks. “I did it to protect your privacy, but I suppose that was not as clear as it could have been.”

“No,” Ilana said. She bit her lip.

“Ilana, I can assure you I did not intend to snub you.”

“Thank you, that means a lot.” She was glad it was dark. They kept walking.

“I was trying to be chivalrous, but it seems I have hurt you.”

“It’s okay now that you’ve told me, please don’t worry about it.”

“I would like to make it up to you. Anything that you want, any wish you might have, if it’s within my power, I’ll do it for you.”

“Anything?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read and left kudos thus far! I would have had this chapter out sooner, but Windows updated and deleted my work (grrr). 
> 
> I wish SDV had more multi-character cut scenes; it would make writing group dialogue much easier, lol. 
> 
> Stay tuned, there's a lot more Elliott content coming your way.


	5. Anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Work/school obligations and all that. Like Ilana, I really was not sure where this scenario was going to go. Even if it's a total shitshow, I think it's an emotionally authentic one. As always, thanks for reading.

Ilana sat at the bar waiting for Elliott. He had agreed to buy her a drink, looking considerably relieved when he learned that was the favor she wanted. When he pressed, he told her that he thought she was going to ask him to fell trees or break rocks or dig furrows. Ilana laughed, and then berated herself for not thinking of that. She hated those chores, and the image of Elliott stripped to the waist and cutting down trees for her was an appealing one.

As more people trickled into the bar, it occurred to Ilana that the whole town would know about any dates she went on. If it was a date. And even if it wasn’t, they would say it was. Did Elliott want it to be a date? Maybe, if it hadn’t occurred to him to think of it as such, the gossip would put the idea in his head. Or it would be a massive-turn off, and he would make sure not to be seen alone with her again. Ilana groaned. What did _she_ want to happen? She was afraid to let herself think too far ahead. Just to bask in his presence for a while would be enough.

Emily appeared behind the bar, seemingly out of nowhere. “Hi Ilana!” she chirped. “Would you like to put in an order now? Or are you waiting on someone?”

“Um…” Was it rude not to wait for him? Or would she seem much more cool already sipping a sophisticated beverage when he arrived? Wait, but he was supposed to be buying.

There was a tap on her shoulder. She looked around too quickly, giving herself painful whiplash.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long?” Elliott said, gracefully swinging himself onto the barstool beside her.

Ilana smiled ruefully, rubbing her neck. “No, not at all.”

“Oh, hi, Elliott,” said Emily. “What will you be drinking tonight?”

He brushed his long curtain of hair behind his ear. “Let’s see—it’s a special occasion, so I think I would like some of that pomegranate vintage I keep hearing about.” He turned to Ilana. “Would you like that as well?”

“Yes, that sounds good,” she said. She crossed her legs in what she hoped was an elegant and ladylike fashion, painfully aware of where her body existed in space. So this was a special occasion. Good to know.

Emily bustled away to make the drinks, and Elliott turned to Ilana. “So how goes the farming life?”

She must have winced, because he looked concerned.

“It keeps me busy,” she said. “It’s nice that there’s always something to do.” What else could she say about it? Would he care that she had harvested her first crop of parsnips? “It’s great if you like parsnips.”

Elliott threw back his head and laughed. Ilana could feel the eyes of everyone in the bar suddenly pinpoint on the two of them. She swallowed. “Not to be a cliché, but I’d rather be fishing.”

“The ocean is always there for you when you need it,” he said. “Whenever I have trouble with my writing, I open the window, and, more often than not, the answers are borne on the sea breeze.”

Ilana suppressed a giggle and nodded. She still did not know what to make of the quaint way that Elliott spoke. It wasn’t that what he said didn’t seem true or genuine, but the impossibility of it being anything but. That was frightening. There was no room for irony in the things he said, no space to step away and shrug.

“Sometimes the dirt talks to me, and it says ‘get fucked,’” Ilana said. That was true, too.

Elliott burst out laughing again. “I will not lie, sometimes the ocean expresses similar sentiments. What do you do when that happens?”

She thought for a moment. “Sometimes you just have to take a moment to…” she whispered, “just lie there and get fucked. And then it’s okay again, and you can keep going.”

“I see what you mean,” he said, and then added, more softly, “though I think it’s sad that that’s how you think about…”

“Yes?”

Elliott reddened. “Forgive me, I just lost my train of thought.”

Emily finally returned with the glasses of wine and was taken aback by the eagerness with which Ilana and Elliott snatched them up. “Whoa there, you guys. Remember to savor.”

Neither of them responded to her. Ilana shifted on her stool. Unless she was mistaken, Elliott had just told her that her attitude toward sex was depressing. That was scarcely fair. Who did he think he was? She sipped her wine and took a deep breath.

“It’s called a metaphor, Mr. Writer.”

Elliott blushed again and looked slightly frantic. “That’s not…I mean…Ilana, you undo me, and I keep finding myself saying the wrong thing.” 

“Bull. Shit.” Ilana, you undo me… She took another sip of wine. 

Elliott looked miserable. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He started to wave down Emily for the tab.

“No,” said Ilana.

He looked at her. “No?”

She smiled. “No.”

“Well, in that case…” His green eyes met hers, and he leaned forward. “It doesn’t have to be a metaphor.”

Ilana’s heart pounded. What a fucking asshole. A schmuck of the first order. Of course she would still sleep with him, though. Something was hurting, but she couldn’t identify where. Please. Please.

“How long have you lived in Pelican Town, Elliott?”

“Just over a year. I also came in the spring.”

“It’s a good time for a change, I guess.”

“Yes.” He propped his elbow on the bar and rested his chin on his hand, looking at her slightly askance. As though she might do something dangerous.

“I just want to know something about you, that’s all.”

“I’d like to know something about you, too, but you’re not going to give me anything, are you?” He smiled. “Fair is fair.”

“I’m here to till crops and squander my potential, and I’m fresh out of potential.”

For the third time that night, Elliott exploded in laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes, he recovered himself, and added, “I’m sick of potential. I rode the potential train as far as it could take me, which was nowhere at all, it turns out.”

“Starting to think there might be something to this ‘hard work’ thing I keep hearing about.”

They both laughed.

As Emily took away their empty glasses, Elliott whispered, “I’ll leave first. You sit a while and then meet me on the beach.”

“Awfully presumptuous, aren’t we?”

He grinned. “See you soon, Ilana.” He put his money on the bar and left, tossing his head like a horse as he walked out the door.

Ilana shook her head and sighed. “Emily, can I get a beer please?”

****************************

As though in a dream, Ilana meandered through the darkened town and down to the beach, her thoughts in tumult. The wind whipped strands of hair free from her braid and raised goosebumps on her skin. Inside her body was flooded with heat, her limbs strangely light, and it was though she could feel the blood rushing through her veins, tingling and humming.

Until she reached the sand. Then she was struck by a wave of shame and dread that threatened to knock the breath out of her. Nobody was going to be there waiting for her. Nobody.

But why, she attempted to reason with herself, why go to all this trouble to hurt me?

I’m just an adult taking a walk. I can go to the beach at night if I so choose. Certain fish only come out at night, for instance. She forced herself to keep walking. A faint light on the dock suggested that Willy was still fishing. Perhaps he would appreciate the company.

Y-ba, Ilana, what are you _doing_? What do you _want_? She shivered. It was so dark. It would be so easy to accidentally wander into the sea. She would not let herself look around for Elliott or his cabin, it was too painful.

“Ilana? What are you doing?” Elliott emerged from the bushes. “I had given you up for lost.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What do you mean am I fucking kidding you, I thought we were having a good time?”

“Oh, don’t give me that, you were a real bastard and you know it.”

“Ilana, I swear, I’m missing something here”-

“I’m a fucking person with feelings, you know.”

“Of course you are, I don’t understand what” -

“I’m not going to sleep with you tonight, Elliott.”

“Okay.” He paused. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

****************************

Ilana wrapped herself in Elliott’s quilt as he made her a cup of tea on his camp stove. His cabin was larger inside than expected, but it was still quite grim. The only light was from an old-fashioned kerosene lantern on his desk, and the only furniture were his desk, chair, and the bed that Ilana was sitting on. Evidently, he had tried to make it look more livable; there was a potted rose on the desk, a single small painting on the wall. It was far from the worst bachelor’s apartment she had found herself in and better-equipped than her own cottage.

He had said very little upon bringing her inside, only asking her what kind of tea she wanted (chamomile) and if she was cold (she was). As she watched him hunched over the tiny stove, the flame bringing out the red hues in his hair, Ilana realized that she was not afraid of him. The problem was somewhere else, inside of her. Not that he hadn’t been a jerk though. She just was not sure how to explain that to him in a way that made sense.

She unbraided her own hair, arranging it over her shoulders like a cloak. Elliott gasped when he turned to hand her the tea.

“It keeps my ears warm,” she said as she accepted the mug.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but it’s like a field of wheat in the summer sun.” He fetched his desk chair and sat down across from her.

Ilana blew on her tea, avoiding his eyes.

“Why are you here?” he said softly.

“I wanted tea.”

“I mean here, with me.”

Ilana took a deep breath. “I like you. I thought that much was clear.”

“Yes, but…” He sighed. “You have to give me something, Ilana. I can’t read your mind. I don’t really know you that well.”

“And yet…” Ilana was furious. “You think what I need is to be fucked by you.”

He flinched and blinked as though she had slapped him. Then, a look of realization. He got up and paced over to the window.

Ilana clenched her mug, scarcely daring to breathe. Was he very angry?

After a minute by the window, Elliott returned and flopped back down on the chair. “All right,” he said. “As I understand it, what happened was I came on too strong and made you feel uncomfortable. For that I apologize. I thought we were at that point, flirtation-wise, but we weren’t. However, I don’t think it’s fair to accuse me of some kind of master manipulation plan in which I take advantage of whatever is going on with you in order to get you into bed with me. Does that make sense?”

She nodded, unable to respond further, and forced herself to meet his eyes. They were stern, concerned, but not unkind. She felt very small, like a child being scolded. He was right. It wasn’t that she was all wrong, but he was right. “Thank you, I understand. I just need a moment.”

“Sure.”

Ilana closed her eyes. She had the strange feeling she had experienced on certain nights in high school and college, and later on the city streets or in someone’s apartment in the wee hours of the morning: that whatever was happening was powerful, irreversible, that the world was wider than she had previously thought. But there was also a hollow feeling, hinting that whatever had been special between her and Elliott—or, rather, whatever she had projected—was ebbing away. She opened her eyes to find him pacing again, distractedly dusting the few sticks of furniture with a handkerchief, and laughed, despite herself.

He paused. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” she said, “this whole thing is just… a bit ridiculous.”

Elliott nodded, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Ilana, I hate to kick you out, but I have only the one bed.” 

“You can lie next to me. I’ll allow it.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “You can even put an arm around me if you like, I won’t mind.”

He rolled his eyes. “My lady’s generosity is unbounded.” He kicked off his shoes, took off his belt. “Scoot over.”

“So you do you have some irony in you.”

“What’s that?” He was stretching out behind her.

“Nothing.”

“In no way does the irony of our situation escape me.” He rested his chin on her head and slipped an arm around her waist. “Is this okay?”

“Ye-es.”

Elliott was warm and he smelled good, sort of like pine. Her heartbeat quickened, and she wondered if he could hear it. Soon his quiet snores told her he was asleep. Ilana watched the lantern die down, and before long she was asleep as well.


	6. A Business Proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Ilana and Elliott are back. I wasn't sure if I'd ever touch this story again, but then the school year ended (I'm a grad student lol), and I had an epiphany about what direction to take the plot. It's a bit different from what I'd initially expected, but I think it'll be fun.

Ilana awoke to the sound of Elliott’s typewriter clacking away. Bright sunlight streamed through the small windows, hinting that the sun had not recently risen. For a moment she thought she was in Grandpa’s farmhouse, until she remembered the events of the previous evening. A hot wave of shame washed over her, and she buried her red face in Elliott’s pillows with a groan.

The clacking stopped. “Is my guest all right this morning?” His tone was one of undisguised amusement.

“Fuck.” Ilana sat up, not daring to meet his eyes. She looked around for her boots. “I um…thanks for the tea and for letting me stay. Sorry about…everything.” She stood up and dusted herself off, only to sit back down to lace her boots up. “I promise I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.”

“Actually, if you could… I mean, it’s Saturday right? Do you really have to work today?”

Ilana looked up at him in surprise. He was tugging on his manuscript, which was reluctant to come out of the typewriter. “Damn,” he muttered, trying to smooth out the crumpled pages.

What could he possibly want? She was sure he had had enough of her, for the rest of his life probably.

“Please.” He suddenly looked tired. “It’s about a matter of utmost importance to me.”

“All right, I guess,” Ilana said. “What can I do for you?”

Elliott shuffled his papers. “Well… it’s…” He struck his forehead. “It was so much easier to say it in writing. I guess what I’m trying to articulate is that I have a business proposition for you. I need some help with my current writing project…well, one of them. The problem is that I am, as they say, strapped for cash, and I need to be able to make some money to support my writing. My serious writing, which is not the writing that pays the bills.”

Elliott, normally so suave, was struggling. Ilana had never seen him so clearly uncomfortable. She wanted it to stop. “I’m not, like, amazing at proofreading or anything, but I might be able to help…” She trailed off at the sight of his miserable expression.

“Oh, if only it were that simple,” he said. “I guess what I need is more like a guinea pig…no, a muse.”

“You’ve lost me,” Ilana said.

“I’ll start at the beginning,” he said, looking down at the manuscript. “A month ago, I wrote to a magazine that had requested writers to create a… a rather salacious gothic story for them to print. I sent in a story idea and a writing sample…and, uh, they loved it. They want me to write for them, a novel to appear in monthly installments.”

“Elliott! That’s great.” Ilana knew how difficult it was to find paid creative work. “They are paying you, right?”

“Yes…after I send them the first installment. But I have the worst writers’ block I have ever had, and the deadline looms ever closer.”

“And you need me to…to do what?”

Elliott sighed. “To be my protagonist.”

Ilana chuckled, but Elliott seemed to be serious. His gaze was intense. “You’re the only person who can help me.”

She looked at her boots. “Elliott, I wish…I just wish I understood what the fuck you’re trying to tell me.”

He stood up and began to pace. “Let me put it like this…you are proud. You are sensitive. You have a flair for the dramatic, shall we say.”

“What is this, a roast?” Ilana wanted to get up, but he was blocking the door.

“You are witty.” Elliott paused, and saw her glance at the door. “I’m so sorry. It was not my intent to trap you in here. Let’s go onto the beach.”

Ilana followed him outside, blinking in the bright sun. “Do you do anything on purpose, Elliott? This is like the third time you’ve apologized to me for something like that.”

“You’re observant.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m so special. I don’t know why, but I have the feeling you’re still trying to get me to fuck you.”

Elliott blanched. “It wouldn’t come to that, at least not right away, not if you didn’t want to.”

“Ah-ha!” Ilana grinned. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Elliott huffed. “All right. Okay, all right. Since you insist on using those terms, I will as well. I am asking you to participate in an extended role playing partnership, in which you are portraying my gothic heroine, Dianthe, and I will be playing the role of Lord Forsythe, the evil nobleman who pursues her. This may or may not involve fucking me, depending on your comfort level.”

Ilana sat down hard in the sand. “So…you want to dress me up and then chase me through the woods or something?”

“Yes!” Elliott was visibly relieved. “I’m glad you understand.”

“You want to tie me up or something?”

He reddened. “Yes.” 

Ilana sighed. “This is ridiculous. Why do you need me to do anything? Why can’t you just come up with it all in your own head?”

“I just can’t. It’s not something I have extensive experience in, and I just…I don’t know if I fully get it.”

“So what would I get?”

Elliott smiled. “I’ve determined that I could give you a 40% cut of what they pay me.”

“So chump change, got it.” Ilana rested her chin on her hand. “I’ll think about it, okay?”


End file.
